Trial of a Warsmith
by Belashkal
Summary: A game of succession takes place in the 14th Grand Company when the Lord Warsmith dies, but is the game fixed already?


Technomancer Xavier was not a gambling man, although this particular situation would have netted him grand money, had he chosen to.

His disinclination towards gambling had little to do with personal preference or mood. He was after all High Sorceror and Warp-counsel of the Lord Warsmith of the 14th Grand Company of the Iron Warriors Legion. It had a lot more to do with the fact that Xavier knew the game was rigged from the start. It was not just this particular game of succession, but every game, ever. Such was the will of the Architect of Fate. If you bet against the Will of Tzeentch, you would lose, always. The trouble was knowing what Tzeentch's Will was and then hedge your bets accordingly.

When Lord Warsmith Arno had got caught between a krak missile and a wall, the game of succession in the 14th had been on. Xavier had "politely" stepped down from the game, opting out simply because he knew his abilities would be put to better use as advisor of the next Lord Warsmith. It also meant he needn't put his own precious life on the line in a pointless game of power. He already had what he wanted: the Lord Warsmith's ear on all topics, and Xavier saw no point in jeopardising that.

Ironically, the fact that he had openly reneged his position was a gamble. Xavier had no control over the emotional reactions of his brother Iron Warriors. Especially the four that now participated in the succession game.

Champion Kaled and Champion Diis had both scoffed at the, in their opinion, abject cowardice of the Technomancer. Both were hot-headed and quick in their emotions, rather at odds with their genetical heritage from Perturabo.

Xavier assumed that it in Kaled's case was the voice of the Blood God speaking its scorn of the sorcerous ways. Kaled had dedicated himself to Khorne a long while back, being an assault specialist by training and a bloodthirsty butcher by habit. Xavier had kept him at arm's length since it became clear the Assault Company commander cared less about whence the blood flowed, only that it flowed. If Kaled won the succession game, he would send the 14th into oblivion.

In Diis' case, the reason for the scorn was simply arrogance. Diis strove for perfection in all he did and somewhere along the way, Slaanesh had seduced him. Looking at Diis, one would not think the proud and perfectionist Iron Warrior officer a devotee of the God of Excess but once you saw past the delicately built yet deadly bionics that made up the larger chunk of Diis' body, you realised there was no logic to the man-machine no more. Diis had replaced perfectly functional parts of his body, each time removing more and more of his heritage of Perturabo. It was a terrible crime in Xavier's eyes to do so. Diis thought Xavier narrow-minded and petty, unable to grasp the brilliance of his being and the two had fallen out with each other some centuries ago.

Champions Erwin Gemmell and Ludwig Todt on the other hand had not given any open reaction to Xavier's decision, something Xavier assumed was because they were both good tacticians that had seen through the Technomancer's plans.

Xavier grudgingly admitted, that as far as siege warfare and brutal trench tactics went, none in the 14th was better at it than Erwin Gemmell. Gemmell was large even for a Space Marine, his bulk only enhanced by his twisted artificier armour. He was a bit slow to make decisions, preferring to think things through before deciding upon what action to take. From Xavier's experience with Gemmell, action usually amounted to the employing of some form of gas. Gemmell and his band of chosen warriors were experts in gas warfare and trench combat. The Lord Warsmith Arno had often sent Gemmell to sort out issues that he felt Kaled and Diis would be unable to complete and Gemmell never complained. In fact, he did not speak much at all and that worried Xavier to no end. Could such a quiet man really lead an entire grand company of Perturabo's finest? Gemmell's almost telepathic understanding with his squads was one thing, but an entire grand company? No.

Which left Xavier with Todt. Not that it bothered him in the slightest to root for the outsider, the renegade loyalist with the nickname "The Bastard".

Unlike Xavier, Gemmell, Kaled, Diis or even honoured Arno himself, Todt was not of Olympia. He was not even of Perturabo's stock. Todt had come to the 14th as a renegade, leading a band of roughly a hundred marines, each and every one having reneged on their oaths of loyalty to the Corpse-Emperor. The colour of the armour, and thus the identity of their origin, had been studiously removed, along with any Imperial insignia. Yet Xavier felt that he knew where the "Bastards", as they had become known within the 14th, had come from. Their skills in fortification and siege warfare coupled with the lack of a functioning Betcher's Gland and Sus'an membrane in Todt, had revealed the truth of their origins to Xavier. Only the brother-apothecary who had performed the physical examination on Todt had known beyond Xavier, and he had been dealt with. Xavier had made certain no one else should know, because it was the most delicious form of blackmail.

It was also the reason that Xavier was rooting for Todt in the succession game. Even if it hurt to admit it, there was one last thing about the Bastard that Xavier dreaded. A thing he could not influence, not even with low-level psychic prods and pokes.

As far as the powers of the Warp were concerned, Ludwig Todt did not exist.

* * *

The succession game was, in Todt's opinion, just a fancy name for a pit fight. The champions seeking to succeed the former Warsmith had been gathered in what resembled a fairly large gladiatorial pit, ringed by metal spikes on the sides. The better part of the 14th Grand Company had assembled in the stands up above, the black sun of Medrengard beating down in an off-white sky behind the eastern stalls.

From what Todt had learned of the practices and traditions of the Iron Warriors, this only happened if the former Warsmith had neglected to choose a clear successor.

The succession game was arranged such, that whoever bested his peers would be seen as the the new Warsmith, the iron discipline and respect for hierarchy in the Grand Company ensuring a smooth transition, even if the almost genetically programmed paranoia would tell them otherwise.

Like his peers in the game, Todt was bare-headed, save for the rebreathing mask he wore. It was necessary as even his genhanced lungs couldn't cope with the open air of Medrengard. The one exception to the bare-headed rule was standing just in front of him: Erwin Gemmell. Todt suspected that Gemmell did not have much in terms of a face behind that full-face leathery gas mask he wore at all times.

Gemmell just stood there, evidently waiting for Todt to make his first move. It was almost laughably predictable. Todt knew Gemmell preferred to be on the defensive. He was not going to have his way this time, however.

Next to them both, across the sanded floor of the pit, Kaled and Diis where busy trying to kill each other. As soon as they had been let into the pit, the two had flown together, obviously living out the collected hate of millennia. Even honoured Arno had been unable to field them next to each other on the battlefield. They were like diametric opposites of nature, unable to coexist, but so obviously cut from the same cloth.

Todt turned his attention back to Gemmell. He had not moved at all, and Todt had not expected him to either.

"Look at them go," Todt said with a sideways nod to the fight between Kaled and Diis. Gemmell turned his head almost imperceptibly to look and then turned his attention back to Todt. He said nothing.

"So much hate. And that for a brother Iron Warrrior-"

"You are no brother of mine, bastard!" Gemmell suddenly rumbled. Todt hadn't thought he would find the sore toe so quickly.

Todt spread his arms wide.

"If you feel such hate for me, Gemmell, then indulge yourself."

Gemmell did not move, obviously not rising to the bait. He remained silent.

Todt smiled behind his mask. So, how did Gemmell want to play this game then? He took a step towards Gemmell, his hand on the pommel of his power maul. Gemmell took a step back and slightly to the side in response, trying to keep a fair distance to the spikes behind him. Todt took a few more steps towards Gemmell and each time Gemmell responded the same way. The battle between Diis and Kaled was now behind Todt's back. It was irksome, but he could keep track of what was happening behind himself thanks to his cybernetically enhanced hearing.

Todt glanced up at the stands above. He had one thing he was pretty certain would force Gemmell to attack, but could he risk it? He knew the Technomancer, high up above, was aware of what he was, as of course the men he'd joined the 14th with did.

Todt decided to play the circle dance with Gemmell a little longer, making the large Iron Warrior tread around and back half a circle, leaving Todt with his back to the large spikes. A calculated risk, but if this worked, then...

Gemmell did not seem to have seen through his gambit, still patiently waiting for Todt to make the first move. A tactic that would have worked, had Todt not known that all of Gemmell's combat moves were of a defensive nature.

Todt took a deep breath and then started to unfasten his rebreather. This earned him a confused cock of the head from Gemmell, the first emotion he'd seen in the big Astartes for more than five minutes now. Behind Gemmell, Todt saw that Kaled was driving Diis against the spikes. That battle would soon be over, and to Kaled's favour, Todt was certain. The speed was out of Diis' movements.

He finally undid the rebreather's locks, removed it and turned his head slightly to the left, showing Gemmell his right cheek.

The expected reaction was instant.

With a howl of pure hatred, as wordless as it was abysmal, Gemmell pulled out his power maul and charged Todt.

Todt dived out of the way, trying to get the rebreather locked back in place at the same time as he got up again. Easier said than done, even for Astartes.

As Todt got to his feet, he managed to lock the rebreather in place and took a deep breath of relief, one that was immediately knocked out of him as Gemmell barrelled into him from behind, smashing Todt to the ground.

Todt rolled over to his back and found himself looking up at Gemmell's faceless mask staring down at him. He was standing across Todt's prone body, power maul raised for the kill.

"You filth!" Gemmell growled and sent the maul down.

Todt rolled to the side, kicking out against Gemmell's left knee as he did so, hoping to at least knock the big man over, perhaps even destroying an actuator. He was rewarded with a metallic crunch and something else breaking. Gemmell lost his balance, and his maul, and started to topple backwards. The maul landed with a thud next to where Todt's head had been just seconds earlier.

Allowing his power armour to do most of the work, Todt arched his back and jumped to his feet, grabbing the handle of Gemmell's dropped power maul before it hit the sand floor of the pit.

Todt walked over to the prone Gemmell, who was bitterly trying to get up. It appeared that Todt had hit him in exactly the wrong place, or right, depending on one's point of view. Gemmell gave Todt a hate-filled glare, somewhat dimmed by the stained glass of his gas mask's eye holes.

"You will never be one of us," Gemmell growled at him. "You will never be one of Perturabo's chosen! You are a son of-"

Todt cut Gemmell's spittle-flecked talk short with a swing of the power maul, crushing his head. That had been too close, Todt sourly reflected as he tossed the blood-stained maul aside and turned to Kaled, who had just managed to pin Diis against the wall spikes. With a quick punch, Kaled ended Diis' existence by putting his fist through the other man's face.

No more gambles like that. Kaled was much deadlier in close combat than Gemmell. Even if Kaled's association with the Blood God had taken its toll on his intelligence, Kaled was not stupid. Todt had only succeeded with his tactic against Gemmell, because Todt had forced him to act opposite of what he was used to. Was it even possible to make a Chosen of Khorne act defensively?

Had Todt had access to his bolt pistol, this would have been over in seconds. No, the succession game did not permit fire arms, so Todt was left trying to outwit a close combat specialist at his own game.

Kaled was rolling his shoulders as he walked towards Todt. He hefted his double-bladed chain-axe and gave Todt an amused look as the latter readied his own power maul. Gemmell's had been too heavy for Todt, balanced and weighted for the bigger Astartes.

"Impressive," Kaled said, his voice a deep, melodious rumble, at odds with Gemmell's phlegmy rasp. "I do wonder: What ever in the Eye of Terror could make Gemmell angry enough to charge you? It must've have been something spectacular."

"It was actually a rather small thing," Todt replied calmly as he and Kaled started to circle each other in the pit. For the first time, Todt became aware that there were cheers and jeers coming down from the stands above. He assumed that they must have dipped enough for his cybernetically enhanced hearing not to block them out automatically. Something approaching a hushed anticipation wrapped itself around the arena. Iron Warriors, for all their keen logic and sharp intellects, were at heart as bloodthirsty as the World Eaters. They were just better at masking it and letting it out at more opportune times. Well, most. An exception to the rule was Kaled and his warband.

So, Todt reasoned, perhaps he could use that in some way? Unlike the unflappable Gemmell, or the gleefully arrogant Diis, Kaled was a creature of anger. He operated on emotion most of the time, but his anger was focused. Honoured Warsmith Arno had referred to Kaled's anger being akin to a plasma welding flame and Todt was bound to agree.

He did not get much further in his thoughts, as Kaled snarled and charged him, forcing Todt to bring his power maul up to deflect the whirring teeth of the chain-axe. The maul connected with the axe head, but the heavy, cogwheel shaped maul failed to make a dent in the axe head, even with the aid of the disruption field. Todt had heard of daemonically enhanced chain weaponry, but he had never seen any. Kaled did not possess the know-how to craft one himself, so from where or who had he got this? Todt had his guesses, but stayed focused on his goal.

Kaled spun round, riding the shock that had gone through the axe, letting himself be carried by natural forces. As he came round full circle, he had the axe going in an arc that would take off Todt's head.

Todt had anticipated that and ducked to the right, out of the axe's range, slamming his maul into Kaled's left shoulder pad in a forehand swing. The maul connected with a ringing sound, sending Kaled staggering to the right, but he quickly found his feet and faced Todt again.

"Clever," was all Kaled said before charging again. It was all Todt needed to know that that particular trick would not work again.

This time, Kaled came at him with an over-head swing, something Todt would not be able to block. He could dodge it, but not so that Kaled would be unable to adjust his aim. In a flash of inspiration, Todt first feigned left, saw Kaled start to aim for Todt's right instead, then continued on the left. Todt raised his power maul for a thrust, aiming to smash Kaled's head.

Kaled saw the feign, but too late. As he tried dodging hard to the left, brought forward by the weight of his own chain-axe, Todt adjusted his aim very slightly, passing by on Kaled's right.

The power maul clipped Kaled across the upper part of his skull, tearing off a part of his scalp.

The Khornate chosen fell to the sandy floor of the arena with a dull thud.

Todt spun around as fast as he could, facing his opponent, not trusting him to stay down. Kaled didn't move. As Todt walked closer, he could see that Kaled, despite all, was still alive.

From the stands above, a deep, rumbling chorus started up. It took Todt a few seconds to hear what the troopers of the 14th Grand Company were chanting.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!" they chorused, in perfect unison, as the one-syllable words carried their own beat, a beat not too different from a heart's. It was obvious that they wouldn't stop their beat before Kaled's hearts did.

"No," Todt said.

* * *

Xavier couldn't believe his ears. It was one thing to be a bastard outsider to make a life in the Iron Warriors Legion, another one entirely to deny the practice of its traditions of succession. True, Xavier couldn't say exactly when this particular tradition had evolved, but that did not enter into it. What mattered was that Todt was playing a very dangerous game. The entire arena had gone silent, the mighty chorus having died out to not even a whisper as that one word had sunken in.

Xavier felt bound to fill the void of silence with something. Perhaps Todt needed reminding?

"The traditions of the successional game," Xavier said, amplifying his voice to carry across the whole arena, "stipulates that only one candidate may be alive to claim the rank of Lord Warsmith at the end of the game in question."

Todt looked up at Xavier, locking eyes.

"You speak of traditions, Technomancer," Todt replied. "Not rules. Traditions. They can be changed. They can be broken."

An uneasy shiver went through the stalls. Xavier felt the low-level psychic shift towards hostility against Todt. The crowd had been with him not a minute ago and the relatively sudden change in mood was distressing.

"And what are traditions but sentimentalities?" Todt continued, his voice now booming out loud and clear in the arena. "Small, meaningless pieces of emotions." There was a small hiss building in the crowd now, but Xavier was intrigued. Todt obviously had a plan with this, but what was it?

"The motto," Todt went on, "of the fourth Legion is 'Iron within, iron without'. Have you ever stopped to consider what it means, or has it become a mindless mantra?" That did not go down well and Xavier saw how the band of Marines that made up Todt's personal warband within the Grand Company check themselves in case things turned ugly. It seemed even they had been kept out of whatever plan was unfurling. Or, and that was a thought that terrified Xavier even more, was Todt winging this, making things up as he went along?

"I came from outside, a renegade without a chapter to call home, a traitor to the Imperial Creed, and was accepted into your brotherhood thanks to the generosity of honourable Lord Warsmith Eduard Arno. I and the battle brothers with me, sought out the Iron Warriors because we felt that you most of all the Legions shared our vision of what Astartes are: Men more than human. Men capable of putting petty emotions aside for the lofty and laudable goal of domination of the Galaxy." Todt stopped to look around the arena. He had everyone's rapt attention now. He nodded slightly to himself and continued.

"The motto... 'iron within'... Lord Arno explained to me what he saw in it, what had driven him ever since the Eternity Gate on Terra. It was not tradition, brothers! It was quite the opposite! The lackeys of the Corpse-God call us traitors, but I, like Lord Arno, saw it very differently. Where the Imperium started to stagnate at first opportunity, for its unwillingness to understand the forces of Chaos; where our brethren in the other Legions have lost their minds to the same forces; the Iron Warriors stand proud in their ability and will to dominate! To dictate! To define our destinies by will alone. That requires 'iron within'."

Todt paused and looked down at Kaled's prone form and then looked back up to the stalls.

"I could tell you why Brothers Gemmell, Diis and Kaled failed today but I am pretty certain we all know why now. They all let their emotions seize them, let it guide their actions, rather than guiding their emotions, and now two of them are dead. You expect me to kill Kaled too, but that would be a useless act of vengeance, from where I am standing. No, I have better use of Brother Kaled."

Todt turned up to look at Xavier.

"Technomancer!" Todt shouted. "I want Kaled to receive the reward of the Gods he so sought: I want you to bind a daemon to his soul!"

An uneasy rustle went through the stalls and Xavier knew he was expected to answer, acknowledging the order, yet part of him baulked at the prospect. He knew what a forced possession could do to a man, even an Astartes. He had seen it happen many times and just as many he had killed the result himself, banishing the daemon and whatever remained of the human shell he had once known as a Brother Iron Warrior to the Warp. It was a method of punishment for insubordination Lord Arno had employed, to steel his troopers against the worst things the Eye could spawn. To teach them that the only way to kill a daemon is to utterly destroy it.

"That would be no reward... Lord Warsmith," Xavier began, being the first to acknowledge Todt's new rank.

"No, it would not. Yet I see brethren striving for this goal throughout the Eye of Terror. Why?"

Xavier got the distinct impression Todt was forcing him into a conversation, goading him. Gods help him, he couldn't resist.

"Need I remind the Lord Warsmith," Xavier said haughtily, "that Primarch Perturabo has ascended to daemonhood? Are you questioning his right to lead the Iron Warriors?"

"I have not forgotten, Technomancer, but let me answer with a counter-question: how can you be certain that Perturabo is Perturabo still and not something more... sinister?"

Xavier blinked and he was quite certain the rest of the Grand Company had done the same as a rustle of surprise went through the stalls. What had the bastard renegade just said? Yet he had an undeniable point. Daemonhood meant immortality, a worthy goal as it meant you could never die and thus never be consumed by the Gods of the Empyream. However, no one knew for certain that the few who attained daemonhood were the same people that they had once been. The path was long and hard, changing men to something else than they had been. So who could tell for certain they were still the same where it mattered? No one, that was who. The promise of a daemon was not worth the air used to speak it, that was common knowledge amongst anyone dealing with them on a regular basis.

Xavier was deep in these thoughts as Todt nailed the last point home:

"How can one be iron within, if you fill yourself with the Warp?"

The question was general, aimed at the entire 14th Grand Company and Xavier finally saw Todt's goal: to use the innate paranoia of the Iron Warriors against themselves. If they could not be certain of themselves, how could they be certain of anything? Todt seemed to know this thought was going through their minds, however that was impossible considering his abilities. Xavier felt the mood shift, reading it as akin to thoughts but couldn't know for certain, telepathy being an inexact practice.

"All is not lost, brothers," Todt said suddenly, breaking the spell of despair that had started to envelop the arena. "The cure for uncertainty is knowledge. Honourable Lord Arno knew this. He told me as much. Join me on my crusade for knowledge. I expect no less. Lord Arno would have expected no less. Primarch Perturabo, who lead you to the Eternity Gate on Terra, would expect no less!"

Xavier felt the change in the company again. They were eager now. Willing. Todt had Arno's blessing, that much had been implied in the last statement. He also respected Perturabo as he had been before his ascension, or should that be descent, into daemonhood.

"We are Iron Warriors! When we set our mind to something, it gets done. Why? Because we steel ourselves for the ordeal! Physically! Mentally! We fear nothing! We are iron within!"

The answer came as predicted.

A roaring "Iron without!" rung the stalls.

Todt repeated the war cry twice more, each time being answered by a bigger roar. As the third cry died down, Xavier raised his force staff to bring the attention to him, and to quiet to spontaneous cries still ringing the stalls.

"The succession game is at an end," Xavier said, his voice carrying easily thanks to the vox-amplifier in his rebreather. "All hail the new Lord Warsmith, Ludwig Todt."

The 14th Grand Company hailed its new Lord Warsmith with the formal three hails and sign of the Star of Chaos, the latter being a minor formality. Todt bowed in return, showing his respect for his, and they were truly his now, troops.

The crowd went silent, as Warsmith Todt called the name of each squad under his command and bid them right to leave. The order was random, and no favouritism shown, much to Xavier's relief.

Yet Todt saved Xavier's name for last.

"Technomancer Xavier," Todt said, looking up to him in the stalls, where the Terminator armoured man still stood, all alone now. "I still want you to bind a daemon to Brother Kaled's soul."

"Brother Kaled could," Xavier began, not wanting to sound insubordinate, "and this is a very small possibility, Lord, but it does exist; he could come into control through force of will. And with a daemon's powers at his hands-"

"Then make certain he won't," Todt replied coldly. "I have nothing to fear of the Warp, Technomancer, as well you know. You do, however. Now do as you are told."

With that Todt left the arena, leaving Xavier alone with Kaled's still unconscious form. Xavier made his way down to the pit, preparing his items for the daemon binding. Medrengard's position in the Eye made the process fairly easy.

As Xavier came up to Kaled's body, he felt the mind within it. It was still active, despite the head-wound. Todt's precaution had not been misplaced. Kaled's will to life was admirable.

Xavier put away his daemon binding tools and prepared another, more mundane spell. He'd originally developed it to calm the Grand Company's Obliterator cult down to a level manageable. It had also let Lord Warsmith Arno control the half-man, half-machine daemons to a certain extent and let Xavier study the virus infecting them.

In Kaled's case, the use of the spell was different. It had to be, to fulfil the wishes of the Lord Warsmith.

Technomancer Xavier saw no other solution to the problem than to psychically lobotomise Kaled, leaving his will to life intact but his physical control stymied.

Ludwig Todt, the former Imperial Fist Tech-Marine, was a cruel man indeed.


End file.
